


Brotherhood

by mokocchii



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Background Relationships, Confessions, F/M, Family Issues, Heavy Plot, M/M, Multiple Pairings, Mutual Pinning, Slow Burn, South Park: The Fractured But Whole, Unresolved Sexual Tension, i might write smut along the way who the fuck knows, no beta we die like men, people die when they are killed, powered up fights, this is a giant ass fic be prepared, training like shounen anime, villains popping up like hoes, why am I doing this to myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-07-06 05:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15879099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mokocchii/pseuds/mokocchii
Summary: Kyle didn't believe what he saw. The exhaustion must have caught up to his mind, for the person in front of him, equally exposed without a mask like he, was a face he knew all too familiar.And when Cartman’s eyes crossed with his, disbelief etched their silence, they both knew their illusion of each other was completely shattered.Or in other words, a Fractured But Whole AU





	1. Y'all Suck at Being Heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. After hyping this up to my friends on discord, it’s fucking here.  
> This hit me like a whirlwind. Joining the SP community in like less than a year I can proudly say I am an obsessed fan. I consume it like its air. And playing TFBW I was in desperate need of a Superhero AU, to which I found barely any. Annoyed, I decided to give this a go, and here's the start!

Dark the city was. Lights glistened in vastness of orchestra neon lights behind the city blue line, and streets were busy with late night activity. Various people went about their lives, some more urgently than others, but all were part of the monotonous cycle that beckoned being a citizen of this energetic city.

In the midst of this night, there was a 24-hour supermarket, moderately active with the late night goers coming and going. As a cashier was finishing a transaction, the next person set wine on the counter lazily.

The cashier binged the purchase. “Your total is 58.40.”

The customer didn't respond, and the cashier stated again. “Sir? Your total is 58.40.”

“Oh, huh-huh, that’s kinda a lot,”

“Uh, yes sir, I guess it is.” The cashier observed the gentlemen. It was mid-March, and the weather was surprisingly warm for early spring. So why the heck was he still wearing a heavy black trench coat and hoodie that covered his eyes? Perhaps he was cold or something.

“Can you, uh, huh-huh, adjust price for me? Kinda short on cash.”

“Uh… _noooo_ I can’t.” The cashier responded with a deadpanned expression. “…Sorry, but if you can’t pay, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to take the item back.”

“Oh, huh, worth a shot.” The mystery customer lifted his face, and to the cashier’s horror, saw a burglar mask underneath. He was too quick as he lifted his gun to the cashier, smiling happily.

Bullets shot out, and the cashier flinched, thinking his life had just ended, but to his surprise and dread they were coming from the isles. Another individual with the exact same attire of trench coat and hoodie strolled with an Mp5 Pistol from an isle, aiming at the ceiling.

“Everyone, huh-huh on the ground.”

People screamed, a few people with trembling arms in the air, while others covered their ears from the sounds of gunfire. It was chaos, people scrambling to find shelter from the shots.

The incoming gunman pulled his hood off, and wore an exact matching mask and outfit as his fellow assailant. However, a major difference between the two was their hair and sweaters underneath. The one at the cashier desk had brown hair and this dusty blue sweater, while the new attacker had thin, string like hair and a dark purple sweater.

Pushing the cashier to the side, the register opened, and the two burglars began dumping money into their bags messily.

The other cashiers hid underneath, and the one who was talking to the gunman had taken shelter at another empty cash stand. Never removing his eyes from the criminals, he searched for the emergency button underneath the counter, and pressed with his index.

The alarm rung, and the gunmen looked to the man, and the cashier’s heart dropped upon his discovery.

“He, huh-huh, called the police.”

The other assailant laughed. “Haha, that’s gay.”

“Very gay.”

The cashier’s eyes widened in absolute terror when a gun was pointed towards his head, and the gun cocked loudly.

“Huh-huh, bye bye cashier dude.”

Clenching his eyes, he waited for the bullet to smash through his skull.

And yet, a loud _swoosh_ swung through the air, and something knocked the pointing gun from the criminal’s hand. Baffled, the masked gentlemen saw the mystery object being launched back to their direction, as if like a boomerang, and they dodged it, following their eyes to where it was returning.

A hand shot out, catching the item, and it was clear what disrupted their kill was a kite.

Uh oh.

“I’m going to have a problem with that.” The kite holder said, as he strapped the object onto his back. He stood there wearing a flight suit of some kind, with shin and elbow pads, and a bandana wrapped around his neck. Goggles and a hat were on his head, and his green eyes stared the villains down disapprovingly, an eye mask covering a portion of his face.

Customers stared in shock. “It’s Human Kite,” someone whispered, and others nodded.

The two criminals laughed in a deep voice. “Huh-huh, look, he, uh, has a problem with us.”

“Why, uh, he thinks we care?”

“Yeah, cause caring is gay.”

“Really gay huh-huh.”

Both simultaneously aimed their guns at Human Kite, bullets fired madly. Human Kite dodged with a quick step of his feet, launching himself up into the air till he almost hit the ceiling. They tried to aim, but Human Kite’s eyes morphed into an intense red, and lasers shot out instantly. A sharp burning pain hit their hands, knocking the weapons from their hands.

Annoyed at the super’s encounter, one gunman pulled two more guns from his jacket, both revolvers. The other had a larger singular gun, an Uzi Pistol, and attempted to knock the flying hero off his balance. Human Kite immediately flew low and aimed a punch at one of them, throwing the villain off his feet, and again using his laser beams on the other criminal’s feet, hurling him to the floor too.

“Now everyone! Escape!” Human Kite shouted, and all compiled in a vigorous fashion to the double doors.

Grunting from the ground, the one in the purple aimed a kick upward, but Human Kite backed off at the right second, readying himself for a fistfight.

Human Kite and the gunman then began aiming to hit each other, and while distracted in their battle, the other gunman in the blue sweater jumped to his feet, aiming a gun right to Human Kite’s head –

But he was suddenly pinned to the wall with bolts of some kind.

The abrupt sound startled both Human Kite and his opponent, and emerging from the isles was a young man holding an advanced looking drill.

Human Kite punched the burglar in front of him before turning his attention to the uninvited.

“Time to get nailed assholes.” Toolshed announced, his blue eyes narrowing under his safety goggles. Wearing a mechanic’s outfit, his waist and back were littered with small gadgets, and another strap across down his chest. The backpack appeared to be made out of metal, clearly some type of radiator or source of electricity.

“Toolshed.” Human Kite frowned momentarily, his brow arching. “What are you doing?”

A familiar voice brought out Toolshed, and his eyes flickered in recognition. “Human Kite?” he was perplexed. “What are you doing here?”

“I was asking you the same thing.” He answered, fixing the kite on his back.

“Uh, I didn't know you’d be here.” Spinning the drill back onto his belt, the black-haired individual continued. “I heard the alarm so I ran over to check it out.”

“That was awfully…convenient of you.”

“Timing is everything when it comes to Toolshed.” He crossed his arms proudly. “And good thing too, considering Bro 2 was trying to aim a gun to your head.”

The air flyer took a brief glance at the fallen villains before he sighed. “Look, uh, Toolshed, I appreciate the help just now, but I have everything under control.”

“Under control?” Toolshed retorted, his blue eyes puzzled. “I just saved you in that last hit.”

“Yeah, and I appreciate it, but really, I got it under control.”

“Dude, I’m not just gonna leave –“

“Huh-huh,”

Both turned to the wall, and the last bolt was pulled off the gunman’s jacket. The duo kept laughing to each other like they had an inside joke.

“Huh-huh, looks like we got uh, two superheroes to deal with Bro 2.” The one with the brown hair said.

“Huh-huh, Yeah.” The one with straggly hair replied. “Gotta up our game Bro 1.” In an excited fashion, they again aimed their guns at the supers and shot sporadically.

Human Kite and Toolshed dodged, one rolling for cover at the cash desks as the other flew up and used the isles.

The one called Bro 2 sprinted away from his partner with his revolver, this time hitting the ceiling lights purposely, glass shattering. Some fell on Human Kite, but and he flew lower to laser beam the attacker, who somehow dodged and continued shooting.

Toolshed had the other man, both using the cashier desks as cover. In the midst of the fire, Toolshed changed a setting on his drill and BAM! An electric bolt went flying, grazing the top Bro 1’s shoulder.

“Uh, huh-huh, almost got me there Toolhead.”

“It’s Toolshed! Jesus Christ.” More drills fired, with bullets flying back, with another bolt striking the shoulder directly. This time the gunman grunted.

“Huh-huh, oh nooooo.” He laughed, looking at his bleeding shoulder, “You hit me.” He then yelled, “Looks like I got hit Bro 2!”

Another shot fired, and his partner looked back, grinning stupidly. “Ho, ho, that’s gay. Guess we gotta uh, wrap this up.”

Bro 1 and Bro 2 pulled a smoke bomb from their belts and threw it on the ground, immediately creating a thick layer of dust in the grocery store.

Both supers coughed, but quickly went to work, Human Kite using his weapon to cut through the smog. Toolshed meanwhile used a mini air compressor to push the smoke out from sight. They caught the sight of black jackets carrying bags dashing to the back doors.

“Shit.” Human Kite muttered, and both he and Toolshed went after them.

The villains slammed the doors in haste, bags clenching to their backs, ready to run in the poorly lit alleyway.

But the sounds of slashing immediately halted their next steps.

The sounds barely registered their minds before the gunmen felt another one on their back, fucking up their jackets and balance. They tumbled in a roll, with the bags of money flying all over the alleyway.

Human Kite and Toolshed caught up, but they too were stalled at the sight that bestowed upon them. Both teams blinked at the third party.

What stood in front of them, not even a few feet away, was a man in a dark, red cape, wearing a black type suit with a “C” embedded in the front. He smiled wickedly, arms crossed as he was posing for some cinema cover he was destined to be on.

“Running off cowards? Heh. Guess what?” He raised a hand up, and wearing fingerless gloves, suddenly three metal claws sprung from between his knuckles, and his grin grew wider.

“Now you all shall feel the wrath of…The Coon!”

Toolshed sweatdropped with annoyance, while Human Kite felt a headache coming. A throbbing one.

“What…the hell.” Human Kite narrowed his eyes. “Coon!”

The larger man glanced at the source of his name, and seeing who was standing there, he scowled under his mask. “Great. It’s you two gaywads again.”

Ignoring the insult, Human Kite continued with a bite in his voice. “Why are _you_ here?”

“Uh,” he acted like he was stating the obvious, walking up to them. “Cause I wanted to?”

“But you never come in this area!”

“So? I can’t fucking be here then? It’s a free country Human Kite!” he retracted his claws into his hand. “And besides, I’m a _he-ro_. Maybe that flying is fucking up with your head if you can’t even remember that.”

“Oh shut up Coon.” The flying hero snapped. “You’re just here to upperhand me when taking down The Bullet Bros.”

“Oh crap, you caught me!” he mockingly yelled. “Geez, now I can’t take the credit.”

“As if you deserve the credit!”

“The Coon always does! Get it through your head Peter Pan!”

_“Shut the fuck up!”_

“For Christ’s sake,” Toolshed pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we just, for once, handle this without a screaming match?”

“What’s there to handle Toolshed?” The Coon argued, “It’s Human Kite who has the problem. Can’t admit when The Coon does a better job at apprehending villains than his scrawny ass.”

“You just came in last minute standing over there doing jack shit!” he retorted, eyes dangerously close to flashing red. “I actually did the work in subduing them. You just pushed them, making more of a mess at this crime scene!”

“Yeah, cause letting them go was a smart-ass thing to do?!”

“And slashing the bags full of money wasn't retard?!”

“Kinda, uh, have to side with that point.” Bro 1 said on the ground.

Toolshed deadpanned to them. “Are you seriously adding your opinion to this debate?”

Before another argument transpired, a dart flew through the air, exploding slightly at the criminals’ feet, and they jerked, right before a net flew on top of them.

The three heroes knew exactly who did it, and standing on top of the fire escapes attached outside of the buildings, was their masked guest.

“Fucking hell. Mysterion!” Coon yelled. “You ain’t taking this! This is my villain to take down!”

“It’s not even yours!” Human Kite retorted back, “I was here first before all of you!”

“And you were doing such a good fucking job.”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey, I did work on this pair too.” Toolshed put his two sense in. “If anything, I should get credit on this arrest!”

Mysterion stared evenly at the three. “While you three kept arguing, I’ve successfully apprehended the Bullet Bros.” He landed in front of them, his cape majestic from the fall. His suit was a mixture of black, violet and faded lavender, black holsters around his thigh and chest holding different weaponry. “You should learn how to be superheroes first before taking on this serious work.”

“Hey!”

“Dude, fuck you.”

The Coon clenched his fist. “Looking for a fight you fake ass Batman?”

“Your insults won’t faze me.” He returned in his gruff voice. “If I can even call them insults.”

Cartman frowned. “You’re being dramatic as hell.”

“Like you aren’t?” 

“I swear to fuck Human Kite – “

“Okay, okay, so who’s getting this arrest?” Toolshed said, “Because they’re worth a lot.”

“No shit.” Mysterion answered. “The Bullet Bros have been notorious for their robberies and heists in the city. The police department has been after them for months now. The media will be all over their arrest.”

“And which is why _The Coon_ shall take them in.” The superhero said, “I’m naturally charismatic with the press. You three are shit at it.”

“Hey, that’s not true!” Toolshed defended.

“Oh really? Kite fucking screams everything he says, Batman doesn't even talk, and you…you’re just meh. Media’s gonna need someone more flashy.”

“For god’s sake Coon stop making it all about you!” Human Kite shouted, “Your claws aren’t even that impressive!”

Three claws immediately sprung from Coon’s knuckles. “I’ll fuck up your face right now.”

“Ha! I dare you!”

"Fucking dare me!"

“Huh-huh,”

The supers recognized that laughter, and their eyes quickly flickered to the villains trapped under the net.

But it happened too fast.

Within a seconds hand rapidly grasped Mysterion’s ankle, and attached was a stick-on flash grenade.

The heroes froze as Mysterion shouted, “Shit!”

A white light blazed out, and a _ting_ hummed through the air, hindering their sight and sound. By the time it began dying out, there was a distant sound of shuffling, and soon what remained in the poorly lit alleyway was a torn up net and scattered bills of green decorating the street.

“Fucking great.” The Coon huffed, and he furrowed his face at the newcomer. “You just had to leave a flash bomb on your ankle.”

“Yeah, that wasn't really smart of you.” Toolshed said. “You know, considering most of your weapons is flash bombs and shit.”

Human Kite eyed the few fragments of dollar bills blowing in the night breeze. “How the hell did they get away? Wouldn't the flash bomb affect their eyes too?”

“Well obviously Human Kite it didn't. Bet it’s their criminal gene.” The Coon replied.

“Their what?”

“Criminal gene. Helps villains with their getaways.”

Before anyone could even ask what the fuck he was talking bout, they noticed the Coon frowning indefinitely.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“Cops.”

“You sure?” Toolshed said.

“Hello!” he pointed to his ears. “I'm the only one here with superhearing assholes.”

“God dammit.” Muffled sounds of sirens bellowed in the distance, and all knew their fighting had to be put on hold. While sticking around with the police would be ideal for any upcoming superhero, being at an active crime scene and NO villain captured looked pretty fucking lame.

All began retreating – Mysterion using his elite athleticism of climbing the walls to the rooftops, The Coon and Toolshed attempting to speed by foot, and Human Kite obviously taking flight. The familiar rush of air slammed against his face as he took off, and he made his way through the twilight city night.

Now alone, 19-year old Kyle Broflovski sighed loudly.

Brilliant. Four heroes at a scene and STILL the Bullet Bros escaped, cash included. And from the quick observations Kyle scouted on the ground, it seemed they grabbed a hefty amount of cash with them, which begged the question: how the hell they escaped?

Well, he knew a normal human would’ve have been impaired at least for 10 seconds, hindering sight and even longer sound. So were the villains actually supers too? According to the weekly reports, there’s no evidence of them having any superpowers. So perhaps they had something in their jackets that prevents immobility of flash grenades. They are notorious for robbery, so the likelihood is possible–

Kyle jolted at the vibration at his pocket, and blinking, he realized his phone had been buzzing for several minutes now. Picking up, he tried his best to speak through the winds.

“H-Hello?”

“Uh, I’m the pizza dude…dude.” The voice over the phone said, “Aaaand…no one’s answering the door.”

“Oh, um, I’m not home,” Kyle explained, “But my roommates should be there to answer you.”

“Brah…no one’s one.” He replied, “And like, I’ve been knocking for like, 10 minutes.”

“What?”

“Yeah man. Your hallway is more dead than my grandma.”

_I didn't really need that comparison,_ Kyle sighed. “Okay, I’m gonna be there shortly!”

“You better dude. Cause like, I need to gooooo.”

_For fuck’s sake_ , Kyle tapped his phone off, and using the wind with greater amounts, he was rushing home.

No longer distracted by the crime scene and his deductions on the robbery duo, his thoughts now focused on his increasingly unreliable roommates, which now they couldn't even answer food delivery to their apartment now.

Before he could continue his inner rant, his eyes focused on the familiar rooftop of his apartment complex, and he began descending.

Perhaps Kyle was irritated from his fight with the Bullet Bros earlier, his argument with the other heroes, or the fact _he_ had to be the one to get the pizza while he clearly remembered telling his roommates to be home for the pizza, but he didn't pay attention to his descent, and the wind jerked him harshly.

Shit! He didn't land properly, and of course he tumbled forward, slamming his face into the pavement. His eyes were on the verge of beaming into the rooftop gravel, but with a heavy intake of breath to calm his nerves, he was able to quell his anger down.

Tonight was just not his night.

Dusting himself off, he quickly removed the most oblivious parts of his costume, shoving the accessories into a gym bag he stored on the roof. His kite however was a bit more tricky, but because the easily bendable yet durable material, he folded it down in the bag as well.

He jogged down the stairs exiting the roof, and entering their crappy lit up hallway on floor 5, was a pizza man sitting casually on the floor.

“Sorry.” Kyle caught up, trying to smooth out his sweater and jeans. “I didn't know no one would be home when I made the call.”

The pizza guy looked wistfully up at the redhead before chocking out a mixer of laughter and choking.

“Naw brah…” he looked to the ceiling light, blowing out a light breath of white smoke. “It’s no problem.”

Kyle crinkled his nose, a familiar stench suddenly invading his nostrils. “Are you high?”

“What?”

“You high?”

“The 5th floor ain’t high.”

“Alright, you're high,” Kyle shook his head in disapproval, but he dismissed the stranger’s situation. “Do you at least have the pizza?”

The guy blinked. “Pizza?”

The door beside them jingled open, and appeared was a tired looking Kenny McCormick.

“Oh shit. Someone was out here?”

“Kenny!” Kyle was exasperated, “You were here the whole time sleeping?!”

“Whoops.” Kenny ruffled his blonde hair. All he was wearing was wrinkled out orange boxers that were tearing at the edges. “My bad. Guess the sex tired me out.”

“Dude. I don't need to know that.”

“Naw, naw brah, I do.” The pizza guy muffled. “Was it hot as fuck?”

“Mostly. She was kinda weak on handjobs cause her hands were too small but surprisingly had a wide jaw. Took it all in one swallow.”

“Haha, sweeeet.”

Kyle couldn't help but keep the disgust off his face. Jesus. Kenny’s ability to casually talk about explicit manners would continue to baffle him.

“Ken, just pay the guy pizza and we can eat.”

“P-Pizza?” the delivery man stumbled over his words, “Dude. What pizza?”

“The one I ordered an hour ago.” Kyle said evenly. “The one on your lap?”

“Ah brah, you’re right!” he said, opening the lid and glazing his eyes. “It’s so good. I even tasted it for you.”

_“What?! You ate it?”_

“Duh. What else am I supposed to do out here?”

Kenny laughed. “I like this guy.”

“He’s fucking high and ate our food in the hallway! I don't see this amusing.”

The elevator in their floor suddenly binged, and a third recognizable face came dashing out.

Stan Marsh was panting. “Shit! Guys! Why did you tell me I was supposed to be paying?!”

“What?”

He was out of breath by the time he reached his friends. “Your text dude! Can’t unload these things on me Kyle.”

“You _just_ got it now?” Kyle glowered, “I sent that like an hour ago! And you said you’ll be home when I was out!”

“I was still at school! The library’s reception is crap, alright?!”

“I can take a crap right now.” Pizza guy muttered.

Kyle glared. “ _You_ , be quiet.”

“Why the hell is everyone in the hallway?”

Three pairs of eyes turned to their forth roommate, their devious shit-schemer Eric Cartman. However his cocky demeanor was absent, instead appearing annoyed at the pizza box left lazily alone. “Guys! Why would you leave food on the floor?” He grabbed the box. “Christ It’s like I live with poor white people.”

“Fuck you Cartman.”

He didn't even open it as he shook the box erratically. “And look! You let this poor ass hippie eat our food! What the hell am I supposed to eat now?”

Kenny took the box and pulled out a slice. “Then starve fatso.”

“Eh!”

“Dude,” Stan grimaced, “Don't eat that! He already ate it!”

“I’m eating an untouched one.”

“Still man! It’s the principal! And aww look! It has meat on it! You only ordered pepperoni Kyle?!”

“You’re not vegan Stan.” Kyle replied. “Stop lying to yourself.”

“I’m vegetarian!”

“And Kyle’s not a Jew Marsh!” Cartman added. “Jesus, stop copying the she-hippie and just eat fucking meat.”

“Bruh…” The pizza suddenly looked sobered up, “Someone’s gotta pay. Now which one of you loud asses is gonna?”

They all looked to Kyle.

“Seriously?!” the redhead fumed. “I have to again?! I paid last time!”

“Of course you keep tabs Jew.”

“Shut the hell up Cartman!”

“But guys I didn't even get paid yet!” Stan exclaimed. “I’m tight with cash right now.”

“Same here.” Kenny shrugged. “There’s only so much discounting I can offer with my body for the rent here.”

“How is _that_ relevant to our conversation?” Kyle asked. 

“I keep the rent low. Therefore I shouldn't pay.”

“Kenny’s got a point.” Cartman chimed.

“And what about you fatass?!” Kyle turned to the taller man. “You haven’t even explained why your chubby ass can’t pay.”

“Well _excuse me_ Kyle, I have an excellent reason.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. “I just don’t wanna.”

Barely seconds flew by before the two engaged in a shouting match, with Stan and Kenny left on the side observing. Stan pinched his nose in aggravation. “I really hope our neighbors don't complain 'bout the noise again.”

The blond munched on his slice, silently nodding. “Maybe they’ll fuck each other to death. Then our problems would be solved.”

“What?”

“What.”

Suddenly the deliveryman yacked on the food _and_ Stan’s shoes.

“Jesus!”

“Ah gross!”

Kenny titled his head at the mess, swallowing his bite. “Well there goes our pizza guys.”

Stan covered his mouth with a fist. “Crap. I’m gonna barf.”

“You better fucking not Stan!” Cartman shook his head. “Just great. Now I’m definitely not paying for this.”

“You were never going to fatass!” Kyle retorted hotly. “You didn't even pay your full side of the rent last month!”

“I said I’ll pay when I’ll pay!”

“Uh, guys,”

“What?!” The frenemies screamed.

Kenny was unfazed at their freakishly synchronized yelling. “I think our pizza dude passed out.”

And their perverted friend was right, with the guy splattered all over the floor in his vomit, snoring like a mutherfucker.  
  
“Fuck, I’m gonna need the bathroom.” Stan was turning green, sprinting pass Kenny and disappearing into their apartment.

“Not dealing with it.” Cartman said simply, and his footwork twirled inside as well.

Both Kenny and Kyle were left, and to which the blond finally said: “He’ll wake up eventually.” He winked at his friend, leaving Kyle alone.

Kyle blinked at the scene left for him: a stoned man, vomit on the floor, and a pizza apparently his friends expected him to pay for.

Few minutes ago he would have thought dealing with his regular homelife would be less turbulent than his secret life of a superhero, especially concerning his failed encounter with the Bullet Bros.

But beg to differ, life had to make it harder on him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bullet Bros are Fosse McDonald and Bill Allen, first appearing in "Big Gay Al's Big Gay Boat Ride" FYI. There's gonna be very limited OC, (if any honestly) considering the cast in SP being so enormous, so we'll see alot more familiar faces in this fic. 
> 
> Anyways, shall see you soon.
> 
> mokocchii


	2. Fuck this Citizen Life

Half an hour of marketing 101 passed before Cartman not-so discretely entered the classroom.

His eyes scammed the room for an empty spot before a familiar face glanced back at him and waved quietly over. Despite his natural reluctance to comply, he walked over at the second last row at the corner desk.

“Hi Eric!”

He replied gruffly in his seat.

“Golly, you look cranky today.”

“Always the observant one Butters.” Cartman muttered, taking another sip from his drink. Cartman honestly hated coffee, but fuck he forgot to pack his redbull when he stumbled out of bed this morning.

The professor was babbling bout something on the PowerPoint in the dimly lit lecture hall, students scribbling or typing down at their own pace. Of course, goody-two-shoes brought a notebook and pen instead of a computer, since he wanted to remain “focused” as he described. Cartman did no such thing of course, as he usually got his notes from Butters, (not like Butters puts up a fight) so he was free to zone in and out of class as he pleased.

However, Butter’s whispered talking about last week’s assignment was giving Cartman a headache, and to that he narrowed his eyes at his coffee and chugged it down, hoping to ease the throb. Honestly this drink wasn't doing jack shit to him, but no way he was gonna be buzzed in the morning like Stan was on the occasional Friday.

Deciding to tune out his childhood friend’s blabber, he took out his laptop from his sling backpack. It was already turned on, and he wasted no time into pulling up the SOUTH PARK DAILY NEWS website, and the headline already brought back his suppressed annoyance.

 

 

**HEADLINE: BULLET BROS ROB SUPERMAKET; NEWBIE SUPERHEROES FAIL AT CAPTURE **

 

Cartman felt his eye twitch. Failed? Pff, it was more so _Human Kite_ failed, as he was apparently the first one to arrive on the scene. He would ought to call the newspaper and react like a tumblr call out post for their mishandling of information.

And newbie? Those dicks! He was _not_ some noob from the streets. He was the fucking Coon. The Coon would not be reduced to such a minimalizing name.

Skimming the article, he then noticed how they barely mentioned him, and the one “positive” highlight the article said eagerly was how Human Kite saved the citizens to escape. Ugh. Of course they eat up Peter Pan’s gay ass heroics.

But in his defense, Cartman wasn't all about saving citizens. It was more of a convenience he had to do in order to achieve his true objective: which is fighting bad guys and obtaining ultimate fame. So for Human Kite to take on the role of “rescuer” didn't tick him off _too_ much, but then again, they barely mentioned The Coon besides “sights of the Raccoon Man”. Like what the fuck.

The whole process of being a super was still relatively new, officially starting a year ago. But that was when all those other fuckers began popping up too. Either they were there to steal his thunder or they seemingly decided to be heroes. Cartman believed it was the former.

Cartman glanced down at his seemingly clean knuckles, the hands that were the center of his superhero identity. His signature. The ultimate persona.

As something as easy as breathing, three deadly claws could spring up between his knuckles and slice anything up in its path. And the thought was extremely intoxicating. 

He smirked to himself. Being Coon and all, it was fantastic. He ensured everyone in this goddamn city knew who he was, and if the city needed a shining light of hope, justice and all that gay shit, HE was the one they gotta turn to.

Granted, he wasn't really favored by the police, (and he couldn't blame them, since they couldn't do their fucking jobs), but the media ate his persona up. He remembered when he first captured a villain who was literally doing the most cliché thing of robbing an old woman when he swooped in and knocked the fucker out. The robber just happened to do it near a police station, so it was a crystal clear scene for the media to catch his heroic moment.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t had any opportunities like that in recent times, still only tracking down minor villains who are caught up in the moment with their ambitions. Cartman realized he really needed to invest into a police tracker if he was gonna get the upperhand. However, he knew if he at least kept up his presence at crime scenes, media would automatically assume he’s truly a hero they can rely on, and soon they’ll be signing him a movie contract of a whole Coon universe.

He glanced idly around the room, everyone still concentrating on the professor (fuck who was he kidding? everyone dozed off or doing other shit, no one actually pays attention ‘cept Butters) and Cartman resumed back to his web browsing. It boggled the large man why he took this class – it was stupid and fucking unnecessary. And besides, it’s marketing! Cartman had perfected the ability to sell or con his way in any situation ever since he was eight. But of course, this was a mandatory class for his program, and it was a dread to be here with bozos that didn't know shit.

And just when he was about to return to Googling how to get the best deal out of a Netflix series, his ears picked up something of interest across the room.

“Yeah, my girlfriend was freaked when the Bullet Bros robbed the store. Glad she’s safe.”

“Which hero showed up?” the other classmate whispered to his friend.

“Human Kite. You know the one that flies?”

“Ooooh, that guy. With the laser beams. Dunno why he couldn't have picked a cooler name.”

Holy hell, there was common sense in this classroom? He pointed that out since day one since knowing about the asshole.

Was it just one super?”

“No. I heard the other super that was there were Toolshed.”

“The dude with the tools?”

“Yeah.”

“Ha. Lame.”

Cartman snickered. Oh this was making the class much more tolerable now. And despite the two classmates being across the large room, Cartman had no trouble hearing on their conversation.

Ahh bless his superhearing. The benefits of being part manimal.

Their idle chatter bout Human Kite and Toolshed went on for a minute or so before the teacher randomly declared a 10-minute break, and more, louder voices broke out in the room. But it didn't hinder Cartman’s ability at all.

“Oh! But I heard Mysterion was there.”

“Damn he’s my fav! Always quiet and mysterious…makes me wonder who he is.”

“That sounds gay.”

Cartman snorted. No shit it did. But then the next sentence got his full attention: “Isn’t Coon the guy with the claws? Like Wolverine?”

Cartman crossed his arms. The Coon was fucking cooler, but the comparison was a compliment.

“Yeah…except he ain’t as cool as Wolverine.”

“True…to be honest he kinda sucks.”

“No he doesn't you assholes!”

The two men almost leaped from their seats, and five rows away was a quietly seething man.

The other classmates looked around, their individual conversations on hold. The two trash-talking students felt Cartman’s accusing stare piercing at them, and they were confused.

“Uh…” one of the men blinked, “We were whispering – “

“Well I heard you. _Jesus_ you talk so loud might as well scream to the class how you wanna jump on Mysterion’s dick.”

Their faces lit up fiercely. “What? N-No!”

Some students snickered, others looked uncomfortable, but Cartman basked in the attention. Either The Coon or himself, he _deserved_ this treatment.

“Cartman,” the teacher was sitting at his podium, eyes boring at his student. “Is there a problem you want to discuss privately with them that doesn't involve yelling?”

He sat back down. “Got nothing to say Joe.”

“It’s Jonathan – ah nevermind.” He shook his head. Better not to argue with problematic students.

Butters stared openly at Cartman. “I didn't hear nothing.”

“Because Butters you’re deaf as a dying skank.” He said almost tiredly. Great the effects of the coffee were wearing off. And he _really_ didn't want to be here for another hour.

“Gee, where you going Eric?” as said man was packing his stuff.

“Home. Where else?”

“I thought you worked today.”

“Dammit Butters are you my secretary or something?”

“Oh jesus no. That’ll be a terrible job.”

“Eh! I’m an excellent person to work for!”

Butters itched his head. “Uh, but what about that new assignment? I still got questions bout it and I want to ask the teacher –“

“It’s not a two-person job Butters. You ask him.”

“But are you gonna do your side of the work this time?” he pouted. “Coz I’m just as busy as you with all this collage work, and uh, I gettin’ pretty sleepy.”

“Remember what we agreed Butters: you do the boring ass research and I use my talent to sell that idea off to the class, _unless_ ,” Cartman eyed him in a mockingly accusatory manner, “You want to present it too? Wow, I thought I was doing you a favor Butters! I know how difficult it is for you to talk to 100 students. And what if the teacher asks you on-the-spot questions and you clam up? That wouldn't look for us.”

Butters flushed. “Golly, I wouldn't like that.”

“Exactly.” He patted the blond boy’s shoulder lightly to reminisce a friendly gesture. “So let me take on this burden.”

“You’re right Eric.” Butters nodded. “Geez, almost shot myself in the foot there!”

With that outta the way, Cartman finished packing and headed to the door. The teacher gave Cartman a deadpanned stare at the back of his head as his tardy student walked out of class. Cartman knew his professor was eyeing him with scrutiny without even looking, but he didn't give two shits bout his wrinkle’s opinion. Butters said his goodbyes happily, but that was no surprise.

Entering the large foyer where it diverted into other classrooms and students walking around, Cartman went straight to a vending machine in the corner. Even though he gonna buy food off of campus, man needed something to munch on as he walked there, right?

Of course, the cheezos get stuck after he paid, so when he thought no one was looking, he shoved his hand underneath, using his claws to stab the bag to slide it out.

Once again, having superpowers are boss as fuck.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Stan coughed harshly as car smoke bellowed out into his face. Waving it weakly away with his hand, he grabbed a greased filled cloth and began cleaning some of the gunk seeped into the engine of the car. Pulling out a screwdriver, he continued till another puff of smoke came out last minute.

"Ack! Dammit, can someone pass me the screwdriver?!” Stan yelled from underneath the car. Literally seconds later a hand shot out beside Stan holding said item.

The black-haired boy knew immediately he offered him the item, and he took it with ease. “Thanks Ken.”

From above, Kenny gave a peace sign.

As Stan resumed on his work, Kenny sighed heavily as he took a gander to his surroundings, chewing a piece of gum he casually took from Stan’s bag.

Both him and Stan work at a car shop mid-town, west end of the city Despite Kenny working full-time while Stan did part-time, the hours were good, pay was decent, and their boss wasn't a complete dick. In all account to that, it was rare they found a job as tolerable as this.

For Kenny, this job was an easy choice. It was similar to the garage shop his dad worked in – with the grim and soot dusting their hands, smell of emissions beckoning the space, mechanical tools scattered around – it was all familiar. The major difference was his childhood friend was working with him and his dad wasn't piss drunk somewhere or bitching how the economy wasn't good enough for the lowlife white folks.

For Stan’s reason, it was a bit of a random decision. Kenny knew Stan helped Mr. Marsh occasionally with tinkering, and turning seventeen, he was the first (and only still) from their group who owned a car. Remembering their final year of high school, Stan’s attention drifted between Wendy, Broncos or his beloved car, causing all of them to roll their eyes. As much as Cartman bitched bout Stan’s attitude to his car, it proved very useful when they decided to move out.

So when Stan took upon the job to actually work in car repair, it surprised the blond. He didn't think Stan would care for any other car beside his own, and Stan already had a job somewhere else in customer service. But one day Stan asked Kenny if he could get a job at his shop, and with very little convincing, the boss hired Stan as another oil changer. Shockingly, the animal lover was really good at mechanics. 

Since Kenny decided not to go to school for the first year (he still doesn't know if he’ll ever go due to his lack of pursuing academics) he opted to work fulltime till he figure something out. The only qualified skill he had to offer besides his flirtatious attitude was being a mechanic, and it proved when after receiving his certification he got the first job he applied to.

Kenny remembered his childhood where he had to help (well forced, Kevin never did shit) with the shop when he was younger. Of course, his dad got offended when he heard his youngest son wanted to work for another mechanic and was planning to move out, to which he said, _“Well guess I’m not good enough for you either. Gonna be just like Kevin huh?! Running off doing god knows what!”_ in his angry drunken rant. Kenny ignored it obviously, and focused more about Karen’s opinion than anything. Oddly enough, she was ecstatic for him. Her only request was that he visits her as frequently as he can, to which he promised venomously.

Now looking back, Kenny didn't have a real reason to move out other than independence. And besides, it wasn't like Kenny could afford school. Any money his parents would try to save for his siblings immediately went to drugs. By the time Kenny graduated South Park County High School he had about 60 dollars to his name. Not even enough for a really nice sweater.

So when the guys offered Kenny to move in with them despite having no cash, it was probably the nicest shit anyone had done for him. Kenny expected to remain in the hickass side of South Park while his friends moved to the core of the city, separated by adulthood, but it looked like fate had other plans to keep their group close.

Kyle and Stan paid Kenny’s side of the rent till he got something stable, and Cartman, shockingly, supported him by buying other necessities he needed. Fatboy didn't outwardly say he did it cause he wanted to, but Kenny figured this was his “best friend’s” way of helping out.

However – the bubblegum in his mouth popped loudly, Kenny remaining indifferent – he was also a superhero.

The job of Mysterion was something he took rather serious. At the tender age of two Kenny knew he was different, and by age fourteen he knew he had to utilize his cursed abilities for mankind.

To this day, Kenny doesn't know why he had been given the ability to be “reborn” everytime he died. It sucked balls as a kid to constantly die in stupid ways. His ten year-old self would probably be horrified knowing he would end up working in a mechanic shop, with every item possibly turning into an accident.

But of course, Kenny learned how to navigate his weird ass abilities. Due to combat training, he was able to avoid those obvious fatal attacks, and so far hadn't died in two years (a fucking record). He just hoped he could continue this streak of seemingly good luck.

Only recently taking upon the job with more vigor, Kenny realized how limiting he can be as Mysterion given how he lives with three other people who can easily catch him in the act if he slipped up. Mysterion didn't need friends to fight crime – he pretty much did it all himself. He was successful so far, but opted to stay in the shadows instead of confronting the media. The Coon was right about that.

The police however were a different story. They weren’t as open to accept his help given his status as a vigilante, but he was being feed information from an insider. It was the whole reason why Mysterion knew about villain profiles more than any other newbie hero in the city.

_“ – and we have the latest on the supermarket robbery that has hit our city.”_

Kenny immediately eyed the screen hanging in the upper left in the room, subtly focused.

_“Around 8pm a supermarket on Jane and 23 rd St was robbed at gunpoint, according to police. The suspects are confirmed to be the Bullet Bros, notorious in South Park County of robbery at small-scale stores.”_

_“Witnesses say supers arrived on scene before police, confirming four at present, but none were able to subdue the duo as they escaped with over a grand. Witnesses also say supers Human Kite, Toolshed and The Coon were there, while others speculate it was Mysterion.”_

_“Two weeks ago The Bullet Bros robbed a gun store on Eldenson and Connor, so police warn the public to not approach them if spotted as they armed, and immediately notify police.”_

_“Strange how four supposed heroes couldn't take down two villains. It seems to me Tammy these supers aren’t as experienced as they toot themselves to be, especially concerning The Coon, who reported to media of being “the best hero”._

Kenny tried to hide his disappointment. Oh The Coon. The super who believed he was a hero. At least Mysterion gave credit to Human Kite and Toolshed that they _tried_ to act in a dignified manner. It was clear as day Coon had other intentions behind his “selfless” duties, and while Kenny didn't voice it out to the hero, Human Kite surely did. The commonality between supers Kenny guessed. 

_“I’ll probably bet my money on either Mysterion or Human Kite Tom to capture the Bullet Bros. They had the most direct contact of the Bullet Bros since the gun store incident back in February 1 st.”_

“Damn.”

Kenny glimpsed down to his friend, who paused his work as he stared at the screen. At first glance he looked worried, but there was an underlying crinkle in his brows Stan always did when he’s exasperated. Kenny knew his friends well enough that Stan usually got annoyed with things personally affected him, especially concerning animals. Why he cared about this particular situation in this way somewhat confused him.

So, he tried to find some answers. “Don’t like the Coon, or the situation?” he airily asked.

“Both.” Stan returned, blue eyes rolling up. “Sometimes I don't get how The Coon operates sometimes. Heroes should act more…I don't know man –”

“Heroic?”

“Yeah dude. Heroic.” He shook his head. “But he doesn't. And I thought the Bullet Bros act retarded.”

“You know about them?”

“Uh, yeah.” Stan tried to shrug it off. “Read it in the news and stuff.”

Kenny tapped his chin. “Don't recall the media knowing about their personality.”

“Dude, have you _ever_ seen them on TV?” Stan said in emphasis. “They acted cocky as fuck. I don't even know why they rob small stores. They seemed capable of doing bigger heists.”

 _“Something I thought about too…”_ Kenny pondered. He bent down and cheekily smiled. “You’re a thinker Stan.”

He faltered. “W-What does that mean?”

“Nothing much.” He said, now gazing to the tinkered car. “You’re done, by the way.” He added. 

“Huh?” Stan furrowed his brows in realization. “Oh, yeah! I just wanted to add more modifications to the hood. There was some leakage that wasn't mentioned.”

A bodacious laugh rang out the room. “That’s why he’s our best mechanic!” Their boss Ricky said. “Boy finishes cars in half the time we do!”

Stan shrugged it off, obviously embarrassed. “Not really.” 

“Too bad you can’t do fulltime Stan.” Their boss continued, “You could easily be a car mechanic instead of a fuel changer. All you need is a certificate verifying your contract.”

Kenny wondered about that. In the year Kenny was jumping between jobs doing god knows what, he used that year to get his certification. It was literally a skim of luck Stan was able to get work here without proper licensing.

_“In other news, it seems that sprinkler systems of 10 community centers in South Park City have went off without notice. Minor flooding occurred in the facilities but it quickly stopped by firemen who arrived on scene. There is no confirmation if this was a system issue or an intentional act of inference. Police will be conducting an investigation on this matter.”_

_“Yes Tammy, almost like a ghost. Or a poorly conducted plan.”_

_“But what would be their intention Tom?”_

_“Who knows. But several sources assume it is the work of a villain.”_

_“But what villain would want to create such…hindrance?”_

Kenny narrowed his eyes. The media didn't know his presence fully, but he surely did. A foe he met since the first days of being Mysterion. The easiest way of labeling this villain was him being the mojo jojo to their superhereoing - with odd plans, stranger execution, but having vast potential if using it right.

And his name was known as Professor Chaos.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, more world building stuff. But dont worry! Kyman interactions are coming up next! And the appearance of the ruler of chaos.


	3. Tale of Two Minds

A large computer screen lit up the face of a man in the enshrouded room, and neon blue lights reflecting back into equally coloured eyes.

The mystery man grinned in delight at the screen, and soon he began to laugh.

“Foolish citizens of South Park! Thinking they can get away from my… _chaos_. As if I’ll allow them!”

“Professor!” a teenage boy burst into the room. He had short red hair, and wore thick sliver frames – half glasses, half goggles – on his freckled face. Wearing a silver armour of some sort with blue bottoms, his chest was platted with a big lettering that spelled “GD”.

He huffed but stammered out, “W-We did it! We infiltrated the locations.”

“Ah, excellent work General Disarray!” the boy beamed at the compliment, and the seated man swirled his seat around, demonstrating his presence.

“Heh-heh-heh!” his boomed loudly, “My plans…it shall work once more!”

“It always does Professor Chaos!” General Disarray returned, “No one can think of more clever ideas than you oh great one!”

The man called Professor Chaos sneered. Beckoning various green clothing with an imposing cape and a metal helmet hiding half his face, he believed he was the vision of the perfect supervillain.

“Where are their comments? Reactions of fear? Oh I need to see it. Cataclysa!” he called, and sounds of feet suddenly stormed on the pavement. “Show me the stats!”

“Here Professor!” A girl strolled in, her blonde hair perched in a perfectly high ponytail. She wore similar attire to General Disarray, thought a slightly different colour scheme and had a skirt and “C” on her chest.

She read off the documents from her hands. “It’s confirmed now two of the news networks in South Park are talking about your dastardly ways.”

“Oh, for how long?”

She squinted into the paper. “1 minute.”

“Ahh a drastic improvement! Hahahaha!” He raised his hands in the air. “That single minute of terror! Oh I wish I was there to witness their horror!”

“But you can my Professor!” Cataclysa exclaimed, “The announcement of your wicked deed is to run again later today! When everyone is returning from work! After the main news story!”

“Brilliant!”

Silence ensued.

“Um, Professor?” General Disarray asked, “What’s our next plan?”

“Next plan? Why my Chaos Commander, I have so many!” he pulled out a map of the city above him, covered with sticky notes and scribbles. “We could pollute the parks with garbage, ruin mail delivery, egg all cars in the neighbourhoods, we can cause panic in the supermarkets!”

“So villainous.” The ginger boy commented in awe. “And this will cause more chaos in our city?”

“Of course!”

“It’s shame they don't understand the magnitude of your superiority Professor Chaos!” The blonde girl exclaimed. “Your message is truly one for the people.”

“Do not fret Cataclysa.” He said, “With the Chaos Army, and you two being my commanding officers, we will be the greatest supervillain group South Park has ever seen! No one will fear us!”

They both nodded, sparkles in their eyes.

“And Cataclysa!”

“Yes!” she replied with a shout.

He suddenly whispered, unsure: “Did you pay the minions this week?”

She too was confused at the dramatic tone of their leader, but she quickly rebutted: “Oh? _Oh!_ Uh, yes! They were very happy. All thirty of them.”

“Thirty?” his puckered his lips out with slight reservations. “I thought we had more employees in the army. What happened to the other two fellas?”

“Ah…the complained about the long work hours.”

“I just adjusted the work hours after our last meeting -"

“And they wanted higher pay.” she squeaked.

“I was working on health and dental benefits!” he slumped in his seat, scowling.

“Also I heard the Mafia was offering better deals to entry-level minions.”

He narrowed his eyes at the desserts in the room. “So they weren’t dropping off the cookies to be nice.”

“I assume no sir.”

“But l-look!” General Disarray pointed out, shaking the tin can proudly in the weakened light. “They drew smiley faces your greatness.”

“Ugh!” Professor Chaos slammed his hands onto the table. “We need to invest more in recruiting!”

“A-And I’m on it sir!” the younger man immediately added, dropping the treats an racing right up to his leader. “I got the current minions to update our Facebook page. We have over 400 likes now. The campaign will only improve from here.”

The helmet-wearing man pondered momentarily. “Not enough.”

“Not enough?”

“I’ve been thinking, to ensure this city knows our great status, we need to start thinking more…dramatic!”

“Dramatic?!”

“Yes my sidekicks,” he twirled to face them, “I have my regular plans, and my dramatic plans! It’s time we do the lather.” Pulling out a pointer stick, he began explaining the process of his new evil plan, dubbed plan #32, as his sidekicks vigorously jotted down notes, catching every detail.

“Professor, you’re a genius!” the boy complimented.

“Simply marvelling!” was the other response, a twinkle in her brown eyes.

“Yes my minions, but listen to the next part very closely.” Pulling out another board, titled ANNOYANCES TO THE CHAOS ARMY, there were pictures of people plastered all over.

“If you see these _supers_ ,” he pointed at the board with a stick, “They are the enemy! All they wanna do is steal the show!”

"I thought the Bullet Bros stole the show." Disarray whispered to Catacylsa. "Since they were the most talked about villain at the moment, and they escaped Mysterion and other supers -"

"THEY WHAT?"

Both winced. "Um, the Bullet Bros sir." Disarray continued weakly. "Those guys who laugh at everything they do..."

Professor Chaos groaned. Of course, the two idiots who couldn't talk out of a paper bag! And yet, despite their seemingly lacking intellecutal skills, they outsmarted supers. Supers! According to the Chaos leader's intel, Bros 1 and 2 were ordinary humans, nothing noteworthy about them in villain circles other than being possible stronger-than-regular hire "grunt" work. They had no affiliation, except to each other and where dollar bills called them. The only reason they were worthy of slight rememberance was because the survival rate for duo gunmen rarely last, as such team-ups either get killed off, arrested, or be absorbed by a larger villain groups. And for these two fools to last this long, especially in a city where alot more novice heroes are coming out, was odd.  
  
"Ugh," he sagged his shoulders, "Villains always trying to upstage me. If it's not the heroes, it's villains."

“We'll do better your greatness!" Cataclysa proclaimed, "They don't have the amazing leadership and skills like you do! We're only strong because of you!"

“Yes sir! And don't forget, we can always rely on the strength of our leader!” General Disarray exclaimed, “No one has a greater and stronger power than him!”

In reality, yes, Professor Chaos had a powerful ability even amongst other supers, which was the ignition of explosions. From the palms of his hands, he can trigger detonations of different sizes and power, causing damage wherever he pleased… _ideally_.

The truth was Professor Chaos, while harbouring a powerful superpower, didn't know how to activate it at will. He didn't even know he had one until that one time he and General Disarray were escaping the cops and one of the vehicles flew to their direction, to which shockingly his palm pulsed with smoke and before he knew it the car was ignited in flames. It startled everyone (heck even the Professor Chaos himself) but he was pulled by his sidekick to get away by using the smoke as cover.

However, that was a one-time event, and Professor Chaos had been unable to produce such a powerful attack since. There would be inconsistencies of smelling like gas and tiny sparks at his fingers when he got mad, but nothing of the magnitude of causing severe destruction. 

But his followers loved him, and they continued to do so without hesitation. It was how he was able to acquire goonies through his Facebook campaigns and how one of his followers eventually became the second official sidekick, Cataclysa, and join the ranks of him and General Disarray and actively partake in villainous activities.

His two official minions of evil, General Calamity and Cataclysa, despite becoming villains at different times, were extremely dedicated to the cause of the Chaos Army. It was even an added bonus they both brought special talents to his plans.

Disarray, while not a super, was practically a walking encyclopedia, harbouring knowledge about every known super in the city. It also helped he managed the marketing of the Army. He was young; technically the youngest member of the army, but that didn't deter his ability to help his leader. The freebie t-shirt when signing up as a new agent of chaos was all the teen’s idea.

Cataclysa managed more of the finances of this organization (which wasn't much to begin with, given how they only received donations and that one time they accidentally robbed a van which harboured $7000). She had financial experience given how she worked in a bakery and apparently did illegal jobs as a child, working at a kissing company of some sort. (Professor Chaos didn't bother asking further what she meant), but her being someone around his age, she was sensible and organized. It also made it better that she too had a superpower – superhearing. Her ability was so strong she could hear sounds kilometres away when focused, providing great outlook if they had any unwanted guests. She also could know when a person is lying based on the pattern of their heartbeat. It served well when new members joined, as she could filter out who were true Chaos followers.

“So remember my minions,” Professor Chaos reaffirmed, “If encountering any of those supers, or anyone who tries to interfere with our work, we must get rid of them!”

“Right!” they replied.

Professor Chaos glared at the pictures on the wall. There were four supers he watched with extra scrutiny, due to a previous encounter he had with them, and they had an insufferable ability to be there when he was conducting his plans.

Toolshed, Coon and Human Kite were annoying, but Mysterion…he was another level of frustration he despised. He in particular seemed to know more than he let on…and it bothered Professor Chaos to the bitter end.

Ripping his eyes away from the bulletin board, he looked back at his two most loyal members with newfound determination.

“With this new plan, we shall commence into creating more chaos in this city, for my name isn’t Professor Chaos for nothing –!“

His chest swiftly felt tight, breath hitched, and Professor Chaos had a compelling need to leave suddenly.

“Professor?”

“W-We uh, shall continue another day my minions!” and he bolted to the doors. 

The two stared at the flaring doors blankly, left alone in the computer room with sounds of gadgets and run-down ventilation systems running.

Cataclysa looked to her co-officer. “He never stays too long, does he?”

Disarray shrugged in genuine confusion. "He's been always like that. Ever since I joined too. He doesn't stay for more than a day to talk."

The woman pouted, jutting her finger to her chin. "I wonder why."

 

* * *

 

Pushing past the doors and entering into the foggy abyss outside of the secret hideout, Professor Chaos huffed out as he pulled off his metal helmet. His eyes, once diabolical and excited for evil-doings, now appeared innocent and wide-eyed, taking in the environment around him.

“Oh jeez, this sleepwalkin’ is really gettin’ out of hand!” Butters exclaimed in shook, “I really should get stronger meds.” He noticed his clothes. "And what's with the wacky outfits sleepwalkin' me?"

He glanced at a cement beam beside him, and behind it was a duffle bag. Opening it, he sighed in relief.

“Ah, least sleepwalkin’ me knows how to bring clothes!” 

 

* * *

 

 Kyle took an extra five minutes after class ended before leaving the lecture hall.

“Sorry ‘bout that Stan.” He said when meeting up, adjusting the bag on his shoulder.

His friend nodded, ruffling his black hair. “What were you asking Professor Walters?”

“The assignment about functional annotation and characterization of enzymes."

“Dude that’s not due next week right?” Stan furrowed his brows. “I thought we had more time on that.”

“Yeah we do,” Kyle reassured, patting his sweater down, “I just wanted to see if he could critique my thesis before I worked on the draft.”

“Dammit I haven’t even _looked_ at the assignment outline.” Stan groaned. “I don't know Kyle how you have time to do this so early, along with working and planning to do an internship this summer.”

“Cause he’s a Jew Marsh that’s why.” A voice said behind them.

The two turned and eyed their stocky-built friend, he too holding his sling bag casually and hands in pockets.

“Cartman,” Stan acknowledged, “Why are you here in the Kerr Building?”

“Skipped class; took the scenic route.” He replied, and before any other inquisition, “And why are _you_ here Stan? Meeting with your lover between classes?”

Kyle frowned. “We have the same classes retard. First-year Chem and Bio students have similar courses.”

“Exactly. That's gay as fuck.”

“Homophobia isn’t fetching on you Cartman,” Kyle said dryly, “Considering how you got Butters to suck your dick in elementary.”

“One, that was a joke to humiliate him, and two, fuck you.”

Rolling his eyes, Stan tried to cool down his ill-tempted friends. “Relax Cartman. We’re getting food. Tag your ass along.”

“Oh ho, and be the third wheel in your love parade? No thanks. I see you guys enough already.”

“We all live in the same place fatass!” Kyle argued. “There’s no difference if you see us here or there!”

 “So? Doesn't mean I want to see your faces everywhere I go!  _Friendships_ ,” he air quoted mockingly, “have a limit. And my tolerance keeps being tested.”

 _Tested my ass,_ Kyle thought, as _his_ patience was wearing thin now.

“Lay it off Cartman,” Stan intervened, “And I thought you’ll be up for food.”

“Rather not with you guys.”

“It’s Chipotle.”

“Okay I’m in.”

“What?” Kyle looked to Stan, as the three friends began walking in a group setting,  “I’m not going to Chipotle if he’s gonna be all gassy.”

 _“Khal, Khal, Khal,”_ Cartman gestured, wiggling his finger in front of Kyle’s face, “My body has grown beyond its weaknesses. I can eat a shit ton of burritos now without feeling a thing.”

Kyle wrinkled his nose. “I doubt that claim.”

“Aw crap.”

The two arguing boys glanced back at their black-hair friend, his face grimacing.

“What’s up?” his best friend asked, stopping to ask.

“I forgot to hand in my fucking paper for Carter. Fuck.” Stan veered around in the opposite direction, down the hallway. “I’ll catch you guys outside!"

"Where outside?"

"Foyer! Beside the fountain!"

With the sound of feet squeaking away, Kyle dauntingly realized it was only Cartman he had for company, which, ever since they were five, was never a good situation.

The hallway was oddly quiet, saved for the few people who were exiting or entering classrooms.

“…Stan’s such a forgetful shit.”

Kyle peered his eyes up. “Coming from the guy who didn't hand in his assignment two days after the due date?” He questioned dully.

Cartman snorted. “Still passed. That’s all that mattered.”

Rolling his eyes, Kyle walked along with the larger man down the walkway to the center staircase.

Now, Kyle figured he was relatively tall for his age (and he was), but it seemed his hormones would never oust Cartman’s height. Since children, Cartman always had the edge in height difference, and in young adulthood and probably for the rest of their lives he’ll continue to retain that title.

Side-eyeing Cartman, Kyle knew the height wasn't the only thing that hadn’t changed. Cartman continued to act boisterous and cunning whenever possible, but now he would cleverly disguise it as something “charming” to strangers, especially since the whole college thing began. Cartman probably realized acting like his true self 100% of the time was not the best way to sell himself in the business world.

The whole circumstances of their friendship on the other hand (he can say friendship now right?) morphed into a weird area neither party truly wanted to admit. They didn't outright attack each other like they used to in their younger days, but their tones weren’t docile either. It was harsh enough outsiders would eye in them skeptically but their inner circles knew it was all well-meaning (eh, most of the time).

Their relationship seemed better when it hit the last year of their high school, but something happened that faltered them back into this odd sense of normality of arguing and cautionary distance. Kyle didn't know what the hell happened, but he thought that they were decently becoming (dare he say it) friends at that point.

Small talk was never their thing. It never was. Since youth, they would simply say whatever what was on their mind to the other, and said person would retaliate (the first being Cartman and Kyle the second). Indeed being perfectly civil was never a viable option for them without eventually yelling at some minuscule argument most people could shrug off about.

His inner thoughts were interrupted when Kyle’s phone pinged, and he pulled it out to check his messages.

“Your bitch of a mom texting you?”

“No fatass, and she's not a bitch,” he said, keeping his eyes focused on his phone, scrolling down, “It’s my mark for my lab report.”

“And let me guess…you got a perfect mark?”

“No, but I did get 13 out of 15.”

He whistled. “Lame.”

“Knowing about my mark isn’t lame.” Kyle shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“Please Kahl, you’re lamer than that Human Kite fucker on the news.”

The mention of his superhero name brought up another sense of insult. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means _you_ , a supposed all-knowing daywalker ginger Jew, is lamer than a guy who runs around in leotards and shoots gay little lasers out his eyes.”

“It’s not lame fatass!” He defended, glaring up at him. “What’s _lame_ is a guy who acts and dresses like a fat ass raccoon. Like we need anymore of them in the city!”

“Hey he looks cooler than flying commando!”

“He’s not even naked dumbass!”

“Well he might as well be, given what he wears!”

Kyle took offence, (cause yeah, he fucking made his own superhero outfit) but quickly retorted: “Aren’t you the observant one? Checking out other guys’ asses in tights?”

But Cartman fired back: “Assuming my sexual orientation Khal? How offensive you are in this PC world we live in.”

“Shut the fuck up Cartman.” Kyle felt a headache coming in, and he distanced himself from his frenemy, walking ahead because they were moving at snail’s pace and it was pissing him off.

“Kyle!” Cartman raced to catch up at a shockingly fast rate, “Why you getting pissy fit for? It’s the truth. Human Kite is a lame-ass superhero.”

“Because you have nothing to prove besides baseless accusations.” He said hotly, “And what makes this Coon better than the other supers? He hasn't done anything outstanding besides showing up unwanted.”

“Unwanted? Please. Have you heard the media? They fucking love him! And remember Kyle; it’s all about having a sweet ass costume. Cool costumes equals best hero.”

Kyle stared flatly at the brunet. “You’re retarded.”

“No I’m a genius.” He crossed his arms smugly. “And besides, I bet he’s pretty kickass too. I bet he knows how to fight all these villains that keep popping up in the city.”

Kyle was tempted to roll his eyes, but held it back. It’s not like he could give away how he knew The Coon personally. “From what I’ve… _seen_ on the news, he looks uncoordinated in his handling of villains. There’s a process.”

“Supers don't have a process Khal. They all do their own thing.”

“Well there should be if they’re willing to protect the city.”

Cartman raised his brows. “…Sounds you support Supers Kyle.” For dramatic effect he lifted a hand to his chest, pretending to look astonished. “Khal, the law-abiding Jew, supporting _vigilantes_? Isn’t that against Jew code?”

“Enough with the Jew code fatass! And I don't support them!” he heatedly returned, all while finding irony in his statement, “I’m assuming not all Supers have the same good intention as others might have, and judging from what I see on TV, I’m gonna assume Coon doesn't know how the system works.”

“Oh of being a hero? There is no system Khal! And it’s not like the other supers follow one.”

“And how would you know?”

“Pff, have you seen them in action? Toolshed’s a wimp of a super, and Mysterion might as well be Batman 2.0! And the other supers…fucking worse.”

Kyle snorted. “Sounds like you know a lot about them.”

“And I do Kyle, cause I’m a well-informed citizen. I don't see you bother reading up on the news of our city.”

He shook his head, sighing all while. “What are you trying to say Cartman?”

“What I’m _saying_ Jew is that there are supers who don't know how to run shit and others who do. Coon is being one of them.”

Making their way down the stairs, Kyle commented back, “I don't even know why I’m having this discussion with you. It’s not I see you advocate for supers like Wendy does.”

“HA! You think I’ll join that hippy bitch in anything? You’re out of your fucking mind Kyle."

"And you prove my point fatass." 

"I'm just saying, let the supers do whatever! Not like the police know how to do jack shit.”

“Ugh, I don't even know why you’re being so defensive about vigilantes,” Kyle uttered, stopping to face Cartman. They stood at the end of the staircase. “But then I remember, you’re a man who thrives on chaos.”

He clicked his tongue mockingly as he leaned into Kyle’s face. “And don't forget it bitch.”

The shorter man didn't falter from the taunt, glaring up in equal fervour. “Don’t call me a bitch Cartman.”

“I can call you what I want… _bitch_.”

The two were at a stare down, something they inclined to do ever since they became teenagers, and increasingly in the last year. Forest emerald gazed back intensely at chocolate irises, and the line of becoming so angry till their vision blurred was tittering on edge. They were so focused on each other they didn't even bother noticing people walking past them.

But then a sound of laughter appeared beside them, breaking their silent exchange.

“You still need to pay your side of the rent.” Kyle deadpanned, keeping his gaze up.

“Ugh, again with the rent Khal!” Cartman pulled back, exasperated, “I said I’ll pay when I’ll pay.”

“And when is that?”

“This week.”

“You fucking better.” Kyle pushed the door open, and the two entered onto the outdoor foyer, “I don't want the landlord calling us out again and I’m the one who has to deal with it since none of you guys do.”

“Relax greedy Jew. You’ll get your money one way or another – “ A car speed in their direction, and sounds of screams briefly registered their minds as Kyle knew he was seconds away of being squashed like a pancake.

As reflex, he bounced on his feet, a slight glide from the wind helping him up, and he slid off to the side, missing the incoming vehicle.

It slammed into the fountain, and water violently gushed up like a geyser. 

Kyle somehow ended up on the ground (hey he was still working out his powers alright?) and then like razor sharp thoughts remembered Cartman was _beside_ him, the car's current crash site.

He shot up on his feet, panic in his voice and chest. “Cartman! Cartman are you okay?!”

“Of course I am Jew!” Relief suddenly rushed over Kyle, seeing the brunet man fan away some of the dust with his hand. On the other side of the car, his eyes switched between Kyle and the scene. “What the hell happened?”

Kyle was equally as confused as him (and it didn't register to him that Cartman was able to dodge the oncoming car so easily), but he and Cartman went to the front seats, inspecting the driver.

The man was clearly knocked out, his head on the air bag, but in the front compartment were a few beer cans splattered around.

“Guys! Guys!” Stan’s voice was heard above the water and witnesses chatting, some surely dialling 911. “Are you guys – woooah. What the fuck happened?”

With all three observing the scene, Cartman pointed to the bottles. “And this is why Stan,” he said looking at him, “we don't let your dumbass drink and drive anymore.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catacylsa, if anyone hasn't realized yet, is Sally Darson, who was featured in "Butters' Bottom Bitch". 
> 
> Also super happy how this chapter turned out! Hope you enjoyed it readers. I also intend to draw for my AU so keep an eye out on my tumblr for updates on that. ^^
> 
> Like my shit? Follow me!  
> [mokocchii.tumblr.com](https://mokocchii.tumblr.com)


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